


Touch Me

by sunflowerspaceman



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Just Boyfriends Being Nice, M/M, Nicknames, Pre-The end, Tord calls tom Sunshine but In Norsk so tom doesn’t know, Touch-Starved, Touch-starved Tord specifically, tom calls Tord firebug cause it’s fuckin cute and accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 20:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerspaceman/pseuds/sunflowerspaceman
Summary: Tord needs more affection than he gets.





	Touch Me

Tord curled up on Tom’s bed, clinging to a pillow like his life depended on it. There were no signs of forced entry—except him. Quieter than he’d ever been. Eyes squeezed shut and his face buried in the pillow.

He needed—something. He wasn’t sure what. But his skin ached and he felt so cold and empty and lonely even in a house with four people and it was weighing on him so hard he was afraid his ribs would crack from how heavy his heart felt.

He pulled his legs tight against his chest, forcing himself not to cry. Fuck. This was fucking stupid. And weak. He shouldn’t be here, he was being weak and vulnerable and—

“Tord?”

Fuck.

He hadn’t heard Tom come in but before he could respond or look up, he felt the mattress sink near his head. A familiar hand pushed down the corner of the pillow to reveal Tord’s face, forlorn and burning with embarrassment. He couldn’t figure out the words for an explanation. Instead he let out what sounded vaguely like a growl and curled up tighter.

“What are you doing in my room, asshole?”

“I don’t know.” The words were devoid of Tord’s usual bluster and bravado.

The voice became more concerned. “...Tord? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t _know_.” Tord’s voice was on the verge of breaking. God, he was pathetic. Tom must think so too, he must want him to leave, to—

Tord felt a hand start carding through his hair. “All right, firebug.” Came Tom’s voice, softer than normal. “That’s okay.”

The couple fell into a silent rhythm for a little while. Then Tord pulled himself up and buried his face in Tom’s chest, balling blue fabric into his fists and squeezing his eyes shut. He ached a little less. Tom kept running his fingers through Tord’s hair, holding him close.

This is what had been wrong, Tord came to realize. He had not been getting nearly as much affection as he craved, wanted, needed, and it hurt. It was hurting him. He needed something like this so badly. Something quiet and intimate and affectionate.

Tom started quietly murmuring a song under his breath—Tord recognized it as Norwegian, he’d probably overheard him singing it. That would explain why he skipped some words or fumbled them. But it was comforting, nonetheless.

Tord began to cry. Softly, like he was trying to keep the other man from hearing him. The tears soaked into the front of Tom’s hoodie, a growing wet patch right over his heart. Gently, Tom tilted Tord’s head back and wiped the tears off his cheeks, kissing his forehead. Tord let out a shaky laugh at the gesture. “...Can we cuddle for a little while more?”

The black-eyed man nodded, and laid down on the bed with Tord curled up in his arms. “This all you needed?”

The Norwegian man nodded, nuzzling into Tom’s chest. The smell of vodka was comforting by now. He closed his eyes, a soft, small, contented sigh escaping him.

“Jeg elsker deg, solskinn.”

“Love you too, firebug.”

The two fell asleep like that. Peaceful and quiet and comfortable in each other’s presence. 


End file.
